


The Long Walk Home

by josiepug



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post Ep s02e06, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 17:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5385026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josiepug/pseuds/josiepug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy Shelby was so close, but he has a long walk ahead of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Walk Home

**Author's Note:**

> Because this glorious show needs more fanfiction.

The mud squelched under his feet, sucking him down, ready to bury him once more. Resolutely, Thomas Shelby picked up one foot. And then the other. He wondered if there was a point to it all, if it wouldn’t just be easier to get sucked under, to fall back into his own grave. But there were two other men lying in it now and he just kept moving forward, despite himself. He didn’t look back, but he could feel that man’s eyes on him. Watching him go.

_Mr. Churchill will want to speak to you personally…_

Jesus fucking Christ. He hadn’t signed up for this. Hadn’t signed up for any of it. Or had he? He had volunteered for the war. Volunteered to get buried under the ground, to shovel and claw and shoot his way out. Maybe he had volunteered for this too. He had thought he was free of it, done with being a cog in a catastrophic wheel, keep on spinning, keep on killing, until Britain was done with him and the mud sucked him under for the last time. He had thought it was over, but it seemed he had just found a new machine, a new illusion. He thought of Freddie Thorne and what his fucking communism would make of that. Freddie would have had a speech for him.

But Freddie had been dead for months and this time, Tommy was flanked by no fellow soldiers as he slogged through the muck. This mission, like so many others, was his and his alone. But, Tommy reflected, stumbling slightly on a sunken rock, that too had been his choice. The Shelby brothers were equals, but only in name. Tommy had made sure of that. Made sure that when a day like this came, the grave would be for him and him alone. At the end, the very end, it had almost been a relief, the idea of letting the earth suck him up for good, no more pain, no more nightmares of horrors gone by and ones that were sure to come.

Almost, but then there was Grace. Her name hurt, even in his own mind. She had used him two years ago, and she was using him still. He knew that. He was no longer blind. And yet every time he looked at her, he forgot. Fell into her shy smile and sweet, sweet voice. And now there was a baby too. Of course there was. Of course, at the worst possible moment, when circumstances were all a mess, when there was her husband and May and the IRA and Winston fucking Churchill to deal with. Of course it was then. But they never did do things the easy way.

Tommy’s shoes were no longer sinking so deep into the ground. He had reached the edge of the field. No one knew where he was. He himself only had the vaguest inkling. In the cart, he had harbored no secret plan of escape. So close. So fucking close. So close to winning, to giving his family peace and prosperity, everything they deserved. So close to dying, to a shallow grave, to bullets with his name on them. So close and here he was, alone at the edge of a field. No one knew where he was.

It was going to be a long walk home.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently obsessed with this show, and I would be happy to take prompts if anyone has one. There may be a few more drabbles coming in the future. We'll see.


End file.
